Edu Comelles: Still Life
Fluid Audio

In selecting Still Life as the title for this recent Fluid Audio release, sound artist Edu Comelles draws attention to its oxymoronic character. After all, no living organism is ever still, and even something as seemingly fixed as a vinyl album lives in a sense, given its imperceptible alteration over time, not to mention the limitless range of sound details embedded within its grooves. On this release, he explores the concept in a number of different ways, by exploring the degree to which field recordings can act as musical material and by re-contextualising material created by another to produce something new. In keeping with the theme, the packaging for the release involved the taking apart of old antique books and reassembling them, the visual approach mirroring the re-purposing of musical elements.

The Valencia, Spain-based Comelles brings impressive credentials to the project. Operating in the fields of new media and sound design, he's performed and exhibited at a remarkable number of venues, festivals, and galleries in Spain, Mexico, and Europe. He holds a PhD in sound art and is a graduate of the University of Edinburgh, the Polytechnic University of Valencia, and the University of Barcelona, and his discography includes soundtracks, solo albums, collaborations, remixes, and compilation appearances.

He uses field recordings and samples throughout but never as mere accoutrements. They're meticulously woven into the fifty-minute release's seven settings, with acoustic instruments such as cello, piano, and accordion adding considerably to the impact. Some pieces indicate a pronounced electronic emphasis, the presence of field recordings and acoustic instrumentation notwithstanding. Fragile organ glisten and guitar-like distortion dominate the opening “Of Course, But Maybe,” for example, even though samples of a small wood kalimba figured into the production. In many a case, one's awareness of the elements used for a track's creation takes a back seat to a focus on the total sound design and the impression left by it. In other pieces, an instrument becomes the nucleus around which other elements gather. While field recordings establish a curdling sense of mystery in the title track, for instance, it's the samples of Sara Galán's cello that give the piece its defining character.

During the fragile meditation “This Winter Sun,” the minimal tinkle of Isabel Latorre's piano blends with Comelles' softly murmuring synth flutter and field recordings of Alpen cowbells and chirping birds. On a recording that sustains its high level from start to finish, “The Sweet Hereafter” stands out for the beautiful timbres Latorre's accordion adds to an arrangement otherwise distinguished by samples of the organ at Logroño Cathedral. The slow-burn of the drone the elements collectively generate makes for an album high point, especially when the setting's quieter second half allows the accordion's capacity for conveying emotion to be amplified. Arresting too is “Lament” where electric bass by Latorre anchors the glacial drift of crackle-smeared samples of harpsichord, violins, and countertenor voice by the Música Trobada Ensemble of Baroque Music. The piece surprises also in being so raw, the bass in places calling to mind the blunt roar of John Wetton's in King Crimson. A haunting interlude appears in the form of “A Lisbon Story,” which features the glorious voice of Portuguese singer Felicia Mar captured at Mãe d'Água during the Lisboa Soa Festival.

February 2020